Flammaquila
by Citiesofowls
Summary: Dracula is lonely, and in need of a friend to ease his pain. Niamh has lost her memory, and is trapped in the form of a bird. When secrets are revealed and trust put to the test, can either find love once more? You only zing once, but love can be found even in the darkest of hearts. Why should this not be true for the lonely Count?


**Author's Note: This story is inspired in part be the brilliant Snapegirlkmf's ****_Broken Wings, _****which is a Harry Potter fanfic. Please review, even if you hate it. I want your opinion so I can become a better writer and improve this story. Thanks to Thinking Without Speaking for agreeing to beta for me despite my terrible first impressions and for her encouraging words. I hope you like the story!**

**Disclaimer: The OC is mine, please get my permission before using her in any stories of your own. I promise she won't be a Mary Sue.**

Flammaquila

Chapter 1

An owl sat watching for prey on a crook of the ancient tree. He could hear the heartbeat of a rabbit a small distance from the tree, but was obliged to wait for better prey. He could hear also two fainter heartbeats near the first, and could not hunt a mother when her young depended on her. Such was the law of the forest.

Hearing the far-away crashing that signaled a large animal approaching, the owl swiveled his head toward the sound to see its source. Within minutes, a human female with curly red hair burst into the clearing. The owl could see the many cuts that indicated she had been carelessly running and was therefore weak, and could hear her weakness in her heavy panting. However, she was too large and intelligent for prey, so he flew smoothly away to find a hunting ground undisturbed by noisy humans.

The girl continued stumbling headlong through the trees, fleeing something that had stopped pursuing her miles before.

She had escaped them when she entered the forest.

* * *

Vilhelm Dracula, the Count of Transylvania, the terror of the wide forest, the nightmare who lived on in dark midnight tales, the protector of monsters everywhere, was moping.

All of his friends had left his huge, amazing hotel for their own less glamorous abodes. Even his beloved daughter Mavis, whom he had not parted with since she was only a baby bat , was gone, off to see the world with that human boyfriend of hers. He was happy that she had found her zing, and that she could safely fulfill her dream of seeing the world, he missed her. Everything about the hotel, which he had built originally to protect his only family left, reminded him of how lonely he was without her.

It wasn't like he could just pop over to the village to get a coffee, either. Not unless he wanted a stake through the heart courtesy of one of the more superstitious members of the town. He was a vampire, and his persona and abilities didn't lend themselves to making friends, especially given all those foolish bloodsucking rumors. So he was stuck flitting around the manor, shouting at the staff and feeling sorry for himself.

Taking his sulking self into the zombie garden on the front cemetery, he stomped around a bit, letting his depressed unhappy mood turn into frustration at his friends' excuses. They had been all, "I'm pregnant" and "I have to go back to work on Monday" and "I need to have my face reattached". Pathetic, the lot of them. Not to mention his daughter, the one person he loved over all others, leaving to "see the world" when he had spent his entire life as a father working to keep her safe from this selfsame world. It made him want to hypno-gaze someone into the next century. Like that one fellow, Rip Van Winkle, when a crazy monster had destroyed the west wing of the hotel- his own personal chambers included- and he had accidentally time-frozen the human. It was meant to wear off after a few days, but, well, he _had _been quite angry. He was only monster, after all.

Suddenly a flash of red caught his eye. Sweeping down the long bridge that spanned the moat, he approached the edge of the forest. He peered through the trees, only to see something that made him gasp. How could this have happened?

* * *

Niamh was terrified. She was sure they were going to catch up with her any moment, and then who could say what would happen? She had been walking home after an evening Bible study when she decided to go the long way home and stop at the store. She had just entered the deserted, poorly lit street when she had seen them. Five men who looked around college age loitering in the shadows, obviously drunk. Not wanting to attract attention, she kept walking, not looking at them as she passed. She was nearly out of the dark street when one of them pushed her. Laughing, the others joined in, shoving her this way and that as she told them to stop and let her go. Not wanting to appear afraid, she had shouted at the largest of them, and hit him. As hard as she could. Their former drunken cheerfulness gone, the men began to get rougher. Desperate to get away, Niamh had kicked one of them and run. Doubled over in pain, he had told the others to "get that little…". She had run to fast to hear the end of that sentence. Just as well, it probably wasn't complimentary. Her blood ran cold with terror as she fled them, weaving through buildings and trees until she reached the edge of the town and the border of the forest.

As she left the cobblestones for roots and leaves on the forest floor, she swore she could hear the men continuing to chase her. Ignoring the scratches accumulating on her face and arms, Niamh kept pushing through the thick foliage. She would never let them catch her. She had worked so hard to mend the broken pieces of her battered life and shattered heart; there was no way she was going to let a gang of drunk college boys be her end. For Niamh Jayne was nothing if not resilient. She had always healed fast, and was loyal to a fault. Her trust, once given, was not easily broken; she would defend someone to her last breath if the person had proven their worth. Breaking her trust meant breaking her heart.

Niamh stumbled a bit as a particularly large branch swiped across her cheek, the thorns leaving a multitude of scratches on her already bruising skin. The largest marks were on her arms and torso, but a few bruises were beginning to show on her neck and face. Her muscles ached from running for so many miles; she had not pushed herself so hard physically since her parents had died. She had been thirteen years old, and had run constantly to help cope with her pain and anger. For whatever reason, Niamh was unusually strong, finding endurance and strength disproportionate to her body. Because of this, she had never joined a sport, not wanting to be ridiculed for not being naturally weak like her oh so effeminate peers. Perhaps this, she reflected was how she had been able to escape those drunken hooligans in the first place. At any rate, she was thankful for the strange ability now. She was frightened, in pain, and emotionally overwrought. Niamh's grandmother, her last surviving family, had died a few weeks ago. That was the whole purpose of being in Romania, to settle her grandmother's few worldly possessions and hopefully have a chance to begin again. Her life had been going downhill for a long time before she moved, and she was grateful to have another chance to attain some semblance of happy normalcy.

Finally realizing that she had lost her pursuers, Niamh staggered to a stop at the edge of the forest and nearly fell over as the adrenaline wore off and the real pain set in. She squinted through the trees, seeing a cemetery, a lake, and- was that a castle? Convinced she was delusional, hallucinating from pain and exhaustion, Niamh landed on the ground in the small clearing with a heavy thud, accidentally breaking off several tree branches on the way down. Her bones felt like they were suddenly made of lead. Is this what Wolverine feels like all the time? She wondered, with an absurd spurt of humor, before her hazy vision melted into black and she slumped on the damp ground.

* * *

Galeria swept outside the hotel, glad to finally be on a break. She had been cleaning up after the werewolf cubs all day. ALL DAY. She _really_ deserved this smoke break. She sighed, leaning against the post at the end of the bridge as smoke began to pour out her ears and settle around her feet. Just then, she heard a crash from the forest. Grumbling a bit, she shut off the smoke and walked across the cemetery. Just her luck, yet another problem to keep her from relaxing.

She quickly reached a small clearing, and saw something quite surprising within. A human. Galeria felt her lip curl. What was one of _their kind _doing anywhere near the hotel? And it was unconscious too. Lovely.

Using her magic, the green-skinned maid levitated the human upright, and its unnaturally red hair fell in its face. There was one of the signs that humans weren't fit for normal society. They came in the oddest colors, like that one boy who had stayed at the hotel a few weeks ago disguised as a monster. Galeria had taken it quite personally that her beloved employer's daughter had run off with one of the enemy. That red-haired freak must have used his evil human powers on her to trick her into leaving with him. The poor dear. Well, nothing could be done to help Mavis now, but she could get rid of this intruder. With a flick of her wrist, Galeria sent the limp human flying over the tops of the trees, along with a powerful memory charm. It wouldn't do to have the intruder coming back with an army of the things. Perhaps it had been a bit over the top to use such a strong charm, but it wasn't such a bad thing if the human lost a bit more of its memory than intended. She heard it land with a crash, then smiled. Now she could finally get back to that smoke break. She smiled in anticipation, then skipped back to the hotel.

* * *

Count Dracula rushed to the side of the injured animal. He had never seen anything like it, nor had he ever seen such injuries given to an innocent creature. It was a bird, about three feet long from beak to tail, and dark blood was smeared over its brilliant red and orange feathers. It wasn't moving, and Dracula didn't know if it was alive. He gently picked it up, feeling for a heartbeat. Good, it was alive. As he cradled it close, it gave a small _meep._ One of the bird's wings was twisted unnaturally, and looked to be broken. His heart went out to this beautiful creature. Its injuries were unusual, it almost seemed as though it had been thrown. He supposed it had crashed in the forest while flying. Whatever the circumstances that had brought it here, Dracula was glad he could help it. He gently stood and turned to take it back to the castle. In his crazy and often unhappy life, here was his chance to make something right.

* * *

**Author's Note: Again, please review. I will try to have the next chapter out pretty soon!**


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